Playing God
by iamzuul
Summary: Kabuto doesn't play God with his patients. He doesn't believe that God exists, you see. [one shot]


Drabble request from the lovely Fi chan. She actually requested this from me last year, and I finally got around to writing it and posting it on LJ about a month ago… and NOW I'm posting it on eff eff dot net. XD I are so bad.

Oh, and - if you haven't read volume 32 or 33 of Naruto, then there will spoilers below.

Naruto not mine, etcetera and so on.

* * *

**Request – Sakura and Kabuto**

"**Playing God"**

:D

Kabuto, hands clasped behind his back, inspected his prisoner. It glared back, defiant despite the blood caked on its clothing and the iron bars separating it from freedom."

"Good," he told it. "Hold on to that anger. It may be all that keeps you alive."

The prisoner spat at him in obvious disgust. The spittle slapped wetly on his sandaled foot, and he glanced down with clinical interest. There was a little pink mixed in with the foam, but not as pink as the prisoner's tangled hair, not enough to indicate that there was enough internal bleeding to warrant investigation.

Let it think what it wanted; let it use his words to inspire confidence, that it may yet escape and bring word of Orochimaru-sama's whereabouts to Konoha. Kabuto didn't care what it thought, as long as it performed to his expectations. And it would, he knew this much; he hadn't taken this tack with the other prisoners, and look what was happening? They were dying left and right. That was very frustrating - because, as any medic of his caliber knew, it didn't matter how good the skills were - no one could keep alive a patient who's will for life had fled.

And that happened far too often down here.

"We'll feed you," he continued, glanced back up. "Water you. Offer you times to bathe yourself. The rest, I'm afraid, is up to you."

"You are _scum_," it snapped at him. If the patient's hair hadn't been lank with perspiration and blood, he could imagine it hackling like an angry dog. "How _dare_ you think you can - "

"Can what?" Kabuto interrupted mildly. He already knew everything it would say. "Betray Konoha? Defect to Orochimaru-sama? Kill Konoha-nin? Try to kill your mentor? Commit atrocities in the name of science and furthering the cause of attaining eternal life? How dare I do this and think I can get away with it?"

It only narrowed its eyes further, unsilenced. "You are scum," it repeated, "and we will kill you."

"Who is this 'we', young ninja?" he asked. "I see no one but you."

"Naruto and Sai got away from your attack, and Yamato-sensei. When they get back to Konoha - "

Kabuto sighed and glanced away from the prisoner. The move was designed to inspire doubt, the precise body language of a man who knew more than who he was talking to. And it worked, as he expected; it cut itself off with his hardly trying.

"I suppose they could," he admitted. "Tsunade-sama won't be interested in losing one of her prize pupils, even if you're worthless at everything else."

"I am _not_ - "

"If they got back at all, of course." Kabuto unclasped his hands from behind his back and lifted one to examine his nails. There was blood dried along the cuticles, and dirt. He'd need to wash his hands thoroughly before he did his rounds. "Orochimaru-sama has already left to take care of the problem personally."

It laughed at him, scornful. "Orochimaru can't handle the _kyuubi_. Naruto will kill him."

"Perhaps," he replied. "But can he kill Sasuke-kun?"

Pale eyes widened, pupils dilated; he could taste its pulse quickening, smell the adrenaline behind pumped back into exhausted veins. The reaction he'd expected.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Kabuto looked back up and clasped his hands behind his back again. "I forgot to mention that part, didn't I?"

A heartbeat of hesitation. "Orochimaru is taking Sasuke with him?"

"Yes," he said simply.

It had nothing more to say in reply to that. He'd expected this reaction, too.

After a long period of painful silence, during which the prisoner made no attempt to (or was incapable of) contribut(ing) to the conversation, he looked away, down past the other cells where more prisoners huddled in rank fear.

"We'll feed you," he repeated. "Take care of keeping you alive. Even repair you if you insist on fighting back or otherwise damaging yourself. We need your body to continue our research on eternal life, after all. So stay angry, stay bitter - it will keep you alive when nothing else can."

It stared at him.

"They will come for me," it said after a moment, but Kabuto could hear doubt where there was none before. "And when they do, I'll kill you."

"Yes," he agreed. "Unless I kill you. And, of course, if they do come. If Orochimaru-sama and Sasuke-kun don't kill them first."

The prisoner glared back, defiance ill used to cover its fear.

"And if they don't come," he continued, "if they are killed, and if no one cares and leaves you to rot down here in darkness, kindle your anger against them as you will no doubt will against us. For failing to kill Orochimaru-sama. For failing to save you. Then you can spit on them as well as me when your body wears out and we have no further use for you."

"And then you'll kill me?"

"No." Kabuto turned away. "I'm certain Sasuke-kun will be happy to do that for me."

There was nothing behind him but silence as he left the dungeon.

And this, too, he had expected.


End file.
